


Resurrection By Love

by angel_xx



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8393551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_xx/pseuds/angel_xx
Summary: "Where the hell have you been?"
"Enjoying death."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a 00Q fic! Hope you all like it! <3 :)

Yawning, Q watched his own hands struggle against the door to his flat as they pushed it open. He worked for twenty-four hours straight, setting up security protocols and spending time sorting out documents that needed to be signed.

Q arrives at his flat and prepares a drink when he suddenly hears the sound of glass clanging from behind him. He sees a silhouette of Bond near the window.

“Where the hell have you been?” Anger rushed through Q’s veins as he snarled at Bond. “Enjoying death.” Bond muttered, finishing the glass of scotch before settling the glass down on the floor. “You know very well that I have informed M that James Bond went missing on a mission and have consequently been declared dead, so why not stay dead?” Q growled. “Shut up,” Bond hissed. “I didn't come back to listen to you rant all night about all this nonsense.” 

“Then why did you come back to London? So you can break into my flat and destroy things like what you did on your previous missions? For God’s Sake, Bond, this is my flat. I’m not allowing you to destroy things as and when you please. The glass on the floor is my favourite mug.” Q’s voice was seething with anger as he slammed his fists on the table. “Oh, so the quartermaster is irritated now. So I came back to hear you argue about all these shit, you know what? I’m tired. I’m sick and tired of your bullshit.” Bond was infuriated when he replied. “I am apoplectic at your decision to come back and make me regret that I told M that you went missing. Now answer the bloody question. Why did you come back?” Q snapped.

“Because MI6 is under attack. And everyone needs me.” Bond rolled his eyes and sighed. “How did you bloody know — Oh forget it. What matters most now is that you'll have to be debriefed and declared fit for active service. You can only return to duty when you've passed the tests, so take them seriously. And a shower might be in order.” Q softens his approach.

“I’ll go home and change.” 

“Oh, M have sold your flat, put your things into storage. Standard procedure on the death of an unmarried employee with no next of kin.”

“Well, I’m not dead. You better call M to buy the house back before I start smashing things.” Bond fumed. Q threw his hands up in the air and sighed in frustration. “Bond, I will repeat for the second and the last time. This is my flat. I own every single thing in this bloody house, and you have no bloody right to destroy them. Destroy one item and find yourself paying double the price for the particular item.” 

“I have all the money in the world. You can watch me pay quadruple the price of these daily-life appliances, Q. So, are you calling M, or are you going to watch me smash all the items in your house within an hour?” Bond boasted, letting out a light chuckle. “I’m not watching you smash my items, and I’m not calling M. You can do anything else besides smashing my things. I’m going to hit the sheets.” Q took out his jacket, hung it on the hanger and went upstairs.

Bond gritted his teeth and grabbed another bottle of scotch and downed it angrily. The bullets that penetrated into his right shoulder has broken three bloody ribs and—to his surprise, Q didn’t give a damn about his wellbeing. Looks like he have to stay alive. For MI6. For Q. Bond winced as he stumbled across the medicine cabinet and opened it with force. 

He went into the bathroom, taking off his shirt halfway and groaned in pain. He threw it onto the floor and examined his wound. Taking the scalpel, he cut the wound slowly and winced once again. He extracted the ribs and bullets slowly, putting them in a Zip-Lock bag. Wearing his shirt back, he went outside of the bathroom, locating a pen and a post-it on the dining table. Bond wrote down some notes and stuck it onto the zip-lock bag.

Leaving Q’s flat, Bond leaned against the wall as a sudden wave of dizziness swept through him. He collapsed onto the ground, and everything went black.

The next moment, Bond squinted at the white lights that was shining on him. “Get that off me..” Bond uttered, realising that he was on a bed. “Well Bond, care to explain your incident? Blood that seeped out of your wound dirtied my carpet, and now I have to spend the next hour washing it.” Q replied, showing Bond the carpet that was stained red. “Do you ever think I had a choice? I felt dizzy and furious at the same time. You should have been happy that I came back.” Bond pushed away the carpet and sat up, staring at Q.

“So you think that by coming back to my sight is an pleasant thing? I’ll tell you four bloody words, No it is NOT!” Q screamed. “Fine! I’ll go somewhere! Somewhere you WON’T FIND ME! I’ll DIE in your BLOODY EYES!” Bond slammed his fists on the bed and headed out of the flat once again.

Q swallowed uncomfortably. He regretted saying that. He missed Bond terribly, yet he decided to treat Bond like an utter stranger. Q went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, staring at the zip-lock bag on the table. He read the post-it. ‘For your own eyes only.’ Inside the zip-lock bag was three bloody bullets and a few broken ribs. Q covered his mouth and retched. 

“Agent Down.” The familiar two words rung into Q’s ear, causing him to drop the zip-lock bag and dash out of his flat. 

Bond stood in the rain, watching his clothes get wet in the nasty weather. He wanted to punch an nearby car badly and cause a commotion. He clenched his fists, and charged at an nearby Mercedes. The rear right side door glass shattered into a million pieces and the alarm went off, alarming the nearby police station. 

Q tracked Bond’s location and managed to get there within five minutes. Q broke down into tears upon seeing Bond being handcuffed. “I’m sorry, Q.” Bond managed to utter before the police officer dragged him into the car. Q kept staring at Bond, wiping his tears now and then. “Quartermaster? You’re required to provide some information. Please follow us to the police station.” The police officer told Q, and in return, he nodded and went into the car.

Bond was imprisoned for seven months, as he was slightly tipsy when he destroyed the car’s window.

On the second day, Q didn’t go to work. He went to the police station that Bond was imprisoned and sat at the visitor’s centre, waiting for the police officer to bring Bond. “Bond.. I’m sorry…” Q touched Bond’s hand, weeping softly. “Don’t be. It’s my fault for getting mad at you,” Bond grasped Q’s hand tightly. “You know.. Q, I always wanted to go to Paris.” Bond murmured into the mic. “I’ll wait for you.. We’ll go together..” Q replied softly, breaking down into tears again. “Don’t cry.. It won’t be long..” Bond wiped Q’s tears, kissing his hands.

“Promise me.. To not die..” Q muttered. “I’ll do my best. As long you stop crying.” Bond assured Q with a reassuring smile. Q returned the favour and he stopped crying. He bit his lip and forced himself to smile. “It’s time to go.” The police officer said. Q waved goodbye and Bond did the same. Q watched him leave the visitor centre and into the prison cell, he couldn’t control his tears already. He sat there crying and crying, for twenty minutes, before he mustered the courage to stand up and leave the visitor centre.

Q had to hide himself in the bathroom for a while. He leaned against the wall and slid down to sitting position. Crying, he fished out his phone and sent a text to inform M that he won’t be at work for a few days. A man came into the bathroom and stared at Q, bursting into laughter.

Q suddenly gained strength. He felt as if Bond—gave him the power to protect himself. He stood up slowly, wiping off the tears on his cheeks. “What, I can’t cry?” He shouted at the laughing man. “I didn’t say you can’t,” The laughing man replied, going to the nearby urinal. Q walked swiftly to the man and pushed him away. “What on earth are you trying to do, little boy?” The man let out a little chuckle, folding his arms. “I’m not little. I’m twenty-seven.” Q replied with confidence. “Twenty-seven? My foot! You look like an four years old that lost your mother!” The man started giggling once again. “Well I’m so sorry, I could report you for mocking at others. Even though I am an orphan, I’m still much mature than you, Mister Cowell.” Q snapped at the man. “How on bloody earth do you know my first name..?” Mr Cowell’s laughter subsided. “I’m a Quartermaster at SIS, MI6. Would you like to fight me on that claim?” Q folded his arms. Mr Cowell stared at Q with shock. He pushed open the bathroom door and ran away.

Q then felt much better. He opened the bathroom door and walked back home.

The days in the cold hard prison made Bond go mad, because he was constantly being beaten by the inmates that were thugs from drug dens. The scars eventually faded, because the thought of Q made him feel strong and gave him the will to live longer.

Seven months went by, and Q was waiting outside of the police station. When Bond finally saw Q, he dashed to Q, and acknowledged him.

“Q.”

“Double-Oh Seven.”

They hugged each other tightly, and Q was spotted carrying a messenger bag and dragging a trolley. “What’s in there? Where are we going?” Bond queried. “Haven’t you forgotten? We’re going to Paris. I booked two tickets for us to take the train.” Q chuckled. Bond giggled softly.

Upon arrival, they took photos of the Eiffel Tower, eating croissants halfway through if they see one shop selling them. They were so happy, enjoying every moment of time they could spend together after being parted for so long.

*BANG*. The bullet penetrated into Bond’s chest, causing him to choke out blood. Q stared at Bond in shock, bursting into tears again. He held Bond and wanted to call 911. “No.. There’s no time… Q.” Bond uttered. “There is time… There will be… Don’t die…. Don’t die on me… We haven’t did anything in particular yet…” Q murmured, dialling 911 immediately.

When the paramedics came, Bond was one step ahead from having one foot in the grave. Q was crying on Bond’s body, hoping that his lover won’t leave him. Bond grasps Q’s hand, whispering, “I had a great.. time… today. I’m sorry… I have… to leave… you..” Q looked up slightly and touched Bond’s cheeks, replying, “You… won’t… leave… me… The medics… will hurry… You… will… make it…” Bond kissed Q’s hands weakly and murmured, “I can’t… I’m… sorry…” Q shook his head and cried more. “You will..! You will make it…” Bond shook his head and smiled. “Thank you… for completing… my wish... Thank you… Q.” Bond’s hands slipped through Q’s, and his eyes closed shut, smile fading away. “Nooo… Bond… Come back… Come back… Please…” Q grasped Bond’s fingers and kissed it whilst his tears dripped onto Bond’s fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave your comments/suggestions below! I'd love to read them all and try to use your suggestions to write a new fic! :) <3 Thank you for reading, fam!


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